


Flight

by orangeCrates



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Airships, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, M/M, Not Victorian Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeCrates/pseuds/orangeCrates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an age of airships, trade along the Silk Trade Routes flourishes and Altair joins a merchant ship to get away from his past.</p><p>Except, when the ship he's on lands in Jerusalem, he finds himself face to face with a part of his past he never expected to meet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight

**Author's Note:**

> So much research went into this. So. Much. Research.

There was a draw to see who would go to see the mapmaker when they stopped in Jerusalem and Altair scowled when he drew the short stick.

It was not that he wanted to go drinking (or whoring) with the other men, but from everything he had heard, this particular mapmaker was not well liked even if he was well respected. He was handed a pouch of coins, enough to cover the cost of the map they needed and a little extra in case the mapmaker had any interesting (and relevant) information to share.

"He always does, but he's not always so keen to share...not for any price if he doesn't like the look of you." One of the other crew members shared, with a guffaw, "He's a bit strange that one. They say some pirates tried to get the location of some treasure from him once. Threatened him with a gun to his head they say. He beat them all black and blue. Sent the bastards running with their tails between their legs."

Altair snorted, and made sure the money was secured properly to his belt (it would be troublesome if he were to drop it) as they made their way above deck, "that sort of thing happens all the time."

"Ah, but there were eight of them and this man only has one arm."

Altair gave him a skeptical look, before shaking his head. Rumours must always be taken with a grain of salt, that much Altair had learned. They finally reached the deck and the air that hit them was warm and dry, filled with the faint smell of spices.

The deck and the ramp leading off the airship was occupied by bustling crewmen and dock workers unloading cargo. Altair was exempt from such work for having landed himself a more unpleasant task. Still, it would have taken more time than usual to leave the ship when there was so much slow going foot traffic. Altair by-passed them and walked to the edge of the deck, looking over the railing.

"Hey, new guy." The man who followed him jerked a thumb to the side, "The ramp's over there."

Altair turned his head and smirked, "I know." He scanned the dock once more and...there.

He took a few steps back, then, before anyone could stop him, ran towards the railing. He heard someone scream as he jumped, putting a foot on the railing to push off before he was free falling. When he turned around, he could see the frightened visage of the men who ran over to the railing and the blue, blue sky right before it was all swallowed up in _gold_. The sound of him hitting the hay was louder than the sound of the dock and, even after that brief rustle, the world outside of the hay sounded muffled and distance compared the sound of his own breathing and his heartbeat.

Then, Altair pushed himself out of the hay and jumped out of the cart. The entire dock was watching as he picked a piece of hay off his sleeve, then he looked up to where the crew members were still staring around the railing. He gave them a mock salute before he ran off.

~ + ~

Jerusalem's streets were bustling with activity. It was one of the major cities along the Silk Road, after all. These were the places where airships carried cargo, which is then bought and sold in the city, or taken to smaller cities along the Silk Road by merchant caravans (people could have certain goods delivered to the small cities that lack proper ports, but no one will take those jobs unless it paid well so it was cheaper to have things delivered by land).

In addition to the merchants and traders were pilgrims and scholars (and, if one were to look beyond the glittering wares and expensive silks, there were the beggars and the prostitutes as well). It was crowded enough that Altair had decided to forgo the streets and take to the rooftops. It took him less time to travel that way, without having to push his way through the crowds and he surr sure he made it to the mapmaker's store faster than anyone else had ever made the trip.

There was no name given in the directions they left Altair with, but they were clear enough that he was confident that he'd found the right place. Especially when he pushed the door open and there was a one-armed man working behind the counter, drawing a map. The place was filled with the smell of incense and the scent took him back for a moment, to his childhood, when they used to hang around the stalls selling them to marvel at the smell (incense, to their little minds, was one of those things they associated with luxury as much as jewels and silks). Altair breathed in deeply. Sandalwood (the same kind he had stolen for a friend once, a long, long time ago).

"What business do you have here?" The mapmaker asked as he finished a line and setshis quill aside. His voice was deep and smooth (more so than what Altair might have expected). No one had bothered to tell Altair that the man he was meeting had a voice like that (it was wasted, he decides, on a man who only spits acid at others instead of being given to a story teller).

"I am--"

"...Altair?" Which wasn't what Altair was going to say (he was here on behalf of his captain and ship) but the mapmaker interrupted his introduction with wide eyes.

Altair's stance shifted to something more defensive, "How do you know my name?" This was not the first ship Altair worked on, though it was the first to have worked on the Silk Routes. There were plenty of people who might know his faces who might be less than friendly. But the mapmaker only grinned at him, the expression making him look far more handsome than the previous, unfriendly scowl.

"So it is you." The mapmaker laughed as he turned around to where all the maps were kept and picking out one, "I see you do not recognize me, but it has been years. I will forgive your poor memory just this once."

Taking the steps necessary to stand in front of the counter, Altair watched the man's back carefully, as if trying to divine if he'd seen it before. When the man set the map on the counter between them, Altair stared at his face and, indeed, there was something about it that almost seemed familiar. The map was unrolled with a practised hand.

"Here is the map your captain commissioned."

It was, indeed, the map they had asked for, though that only made Altair look up at the mapmaker with a frown. The mapmaker was still grinning and it irritated Altair to be left in the dark like this.

"You seem annoyed. What might be the problem, Altair? Is the map not to your satisfaction?"

Altair glared and crosses his arms, "Enough of your games, mapmaker. Who are you, where did you know me from and how did you know which ship I belonged to?"

"Impatient as ever, I see." The mapmaker only tutted and rolled the map up again, "I know which ship you belonged to because my informants saw where you came from. They were very impressed with your feats, to be sure. As for who I am and where I know you from." The mapmaker tilted his head still with that damnable grin, "Hm. All I will tell you is that I can buy my own frankincense now, so you do not need to steal any for me."

The words seemed like nonsense until their meaning and the accompanying memories rushed back.

It had been years but Altair still remembered stealing the frankincense that had caught Malik's interest (the way he lingered by the store where it was being burnt) and remembered the scolding Malik had given him for stealing it ("What if you had been caught? This is nothing to risk your life for!").

"Malik?" Altair swallowed and he looked the man standing in front of him up and down, because he also remembered the heart-stopping moment when he had been told that everyone in the town was _dead_ , "you're alive?"

He reached out as if afraid that if he touched Malik, he would be as substantial as smoke. Malik, however, didn't hesitate to reach back for him and clasp his forearm. Malik's grip was warm and solid, his hand far from the small, bony thing it had been when they were children.

"Indeed." Malik said, ( _he_ had never doubted that, somewhere, Altair was still alive), "if you are done stating the obvious, perhaps we might negotiate the payment on this map and whatever else your captain wanted."

Altair laughed because the Malik-in-his-dreams was always ten and scrawny and covered in blood (always asking him why he left, why he didn't come back to save them), but this one...this one was _alive_ and a broad-shouldered adult with that same sarcastic wit that Altair had _missed_.

"I was told you cannot be negotiated with."

"You were misled." Malik replied flippantly and pulled his own arm (his only. The other was gone from just above the elbow and Altair wondered what happened to it) back, "I am just picky about who I negotiate with."

For a moment, as Altair leaned against the counter and spoke like they were conspirators, like they were ten again, and discussing which man's purse they will cut and how they will go about it.

"Then perhaps you will be so kind as to negotiate with me?"

"Of course," Malik said, "anything for an old friend."

~ + ~

When Kadar came back, his complaint about being hungry stalled at the sight of (somewhat familiar) stranger in their home. Not the store, but in the connecting area where they lived.

"Uh. I didn't know we were having guests." He said like it wasn't the sort of thing that ever happened.

Malik shrugged, "I didn't realize I'd be running into old friends today."

Altair did not speak, only smirked as Kadar looked at him with a frown. It was easy to spot the moment when Kadar realized who he was because his jaw dropped.

"No. _Altair_? Is that you? It is you!" Kadar laughed and it was much deeper in pitch than it had been when they were children, but the genuine joy in it was still the same. "It's been so long! I almost didn't recognize you!" Then he tilted his head with a cheeky grin, "you're shorter than I expected."

The years (and probably more regular meals) had been kind on Kadar and the small, round faced boy had grown up taller than Altair and Malik both. He was broad in the shoulders and solid from the work he did (he's apprenticed at the local shipyard. A decision Malik had supported because there was always work for someone in that trade. Few were the cities and crews that did not welcome a decent shipwright).

Dinner was full of conversation that consisted mainly of Kadar asking questions that Altair answered and subtle digs at his brother that Malik ignored.

"But how did the two of you get away?" Altair asked when Kadar paused to actually put food in his mouth.

"Mostly luck." Malik answered because if it were left to Kadar he would tell the story in great detail and far more theatrics than was necessary while missing many of the important parts. "Remember the old dried well? We hid in there."

"And then got stuck in it." Kadar launched into the story of how they'd been stuck in the well for two days before a group of traders came to the town and found them. "They were going to Jerusalem and Malik offered to work on their ship, and he stayed there until...you know." He gestured at his own arm, the left like the one Malik had lost, "But how did you get away?"

Altair should have expected the question at some point but it still caught him off guard.

(There had been fire and screams everywhere and he couldn't find Malik and Kadar. Where were they? Malik had said they'd be by the docks. So where were they--when he woke up his head was _throbbing_ and there was an old man shaking his head at him in pity when Altair asked to go back--they said it was raiders. _Pirates_. The same ones that had destroyed the villages of many of the children on board the ship. "Come with us and we will put a stop to them." Rashid had said with his hands on Altair's small bony shoulders, his face a picture of paternal affection--but they were lies, they were all liars because the pirates were only half the story. In the blackened ruins of towns where children left homeless and hopeless. Then they offered them a home and a future with invisible chains. The pirates were real, but Rashid was not what he seemed and the damning words in his journal mocked Altair for treating the murderer of his brothers like a father--)

He forced his hands not to clench into fists as he shrugged, "Someone took me in."

"It's getting late." Malik said, cutting off any questions Kadar might try to ask, "You should get back."

Altair nodded mechanically. He did not want to leave, but he stood up, feeling the way the past he'd been running from overcome him, "I'll go." He was surprised when Malik stood alongside him, leaving Kadar with the order to clean up.

"It's your first time in Jerusalem, is it not? We wouldn't want you to get lost." It was a poor excuse. Altair had never been lost before in his life (not physically).

~ + ~

Altair expected to be asked questions on the way back, the sort of delicate questions that were best asked without Kadar there.

He hadn't decided whether to lie or not when Malik said, "You should probably tell him at some point."

"What?"

Malik turned his head slightly, giving Altair a brief look before he turned forward again, "Kadar was too young, but I was old enough to remember details about the ship and the men that attacked our town. Then it was a matter of asking the right questions to the right people."

"You know what I am." It came out as an accusation (but it was an uncomfortable relief that he wouldn't need to lie or explain).

"I know that you were a pirate on a ship that was known for kidnapping children. And I know that there are rumours that the captain was killed by a man with a scar like yours." He shrugged like that sort of information shouldn't be extremely difficult to come by, "I'm not sure what you are now."

"I'm not sure I know either. Not anymore." It was a soft admission and Malik made no reply to it. (But his hands brushed against Altair's breifly), "You didn't tell your brother?"

It was Malik's turn to shrug, "I thought I'd give you the choice of whether to tell him or not yourself." Malik reached out and grabbed Altair's hand at the same time he stopped walking. "I looked for you before we hid in the well. I never stopped looking for you even after we got out of there. Everywhere I went I asked about you. I had papers ready to join the military because I thought I was more likely to find your ship if I weren't on a merchant vessel. When I could no longer search in the skies I made all the ships that came into Jerusalem my eyes and my ears." He smiled ruefully, "but it was just as futile as when I was running around screaming your name. In the end, you were the one who found me." He let go of Altair's hand, but not before giving it a reassuring squeeze, "whatever you were, whatever you are, you will always have a place here."

~ + ~

Altair did not miss the way they lived when they were children.

He did not miss the way they were perpetually hungry or the way Malik would lie about being full just so there was more food for Kadar and Altair. Altair did not miss the abandoned hovel they called home that leaked when it rained and let in the wind during the winter.

For all that Rashid had lied to him, he had never let Altair go hungry. He was given a place to sleep that was warm, if crowded, and his clothes were always weather appropriate and comfortable.

He would never ask to go back to a life where he went to sleep hungry and cold. It was never the life they led that he missed.

What he had missed was _Malik_ , the secret smile he and Altair shared when they were pleased with what they'd done, the way they curled up together with Kadar to keep warm. He missed the way Malik did his best to bandage his hurts, and even the way they could snap at each other and argue, yet never abandon each other.

Rashid had made Altair feel superior. He built Altair up as this well of talent and filled his head with _things_ about how he was stronger, faster and better than everyone else.

But Malik made him feel safe. He might have been cold and starving and discontented with his lot in life, but it had been bearable as long as he could end the day curled up under that thin blanket with Malik as they talked in hushed voices to avoid waking Kadar. They talked long into the night about the future, and the ship they'd use to sail away from this place in order to seek adventure and their fortune and, when they're doing that, Altair couldn't help but feel that anything at all was possible if they could only do it together.

He'd forgotten how that felt like. He'd forgotten what it was like to look forward to seeing someone for reasons that had nothing to do with being paid or getting help. There was a simple joy in knowing that every time he was in Jerusalem that Malik would be there at his little shop, with a smile ready to welcome him.

~ + ~

"What is this?" Malik asked when Altair dropped a package wrapped in cloth on the counter. He had been surprised, the first time Altair had done this when the ship he was on returned to Jerusalem.

He had laughed at Malik's confusion that first time before pushing the package towards him and told him it was a gift (inside had been a package of dried, exotic fruits from Central Asia). Malik tried not the expect the presents that Altair brought back every time (but he most certainly appreciated them).

Pulling on the twine holding the package closed, Malik smiled at the pile of papers revealed. They were white, pristine and thinner than the parchment he's used to using for maps. "You brought these back from the East?"

Altair nodded and was pleased by the reverent way Malik ran his hands over the paper. "They cost a great deal less than if you were to buy them here."

"I'd imagine it would be." The papers were rewrapped in the cloth Altair had brought them back in (the cloth itself felt like silk between Malik's finger with elegant embroidery that was almost the same colour as the cloth itself, but when the cloth shifted stood out against its background with a shimmer of white) and put onto a shelf at the back.

"I saw Kadar at the dock. He said he won't be back for dinner." Altair said as he leaned against the counter, "He said I could eat his share."

"It would go to waste otherwise." Malik certainly couldn't eat all that food by himself.

"Is there no one else for you to share it with?" The question, Altair hoped, did not sound too hopeful, but he might not be as successful as he hoped because Malik gave him a puzzled look.

Unable to deduce what Altair was trying to ask, Malik only frowned, "...I suppose I could give some to the young lady who helps me watch the shop when I'm not there."

"Apart from her, isn't there anyone else?" Altair leaned against the counter, trying very hard to make the curve of his body seem casual and loose, "some lover you can spend the evening with?" Malik always spent the evening with him whenever he was in the city, but they were apart more often than they were together. It could just be Malik making time to see an old friend, a brother in everything except blood (even if Altair's thoughts strayed into territory far from brotherly these days).

Malik's laugh was sharp and self-deprecating. "Looking as I do," He gestured at his pinned-up sleeve as if to reiterate his point, "It is rare to find a man or woman who does not stare at me in pity or disgust. Even the people I do business with cannot help but stare the first time." It was obviously something Malik had grown accustomed to and accepted from the way he shrugged it off.

Altair frowned, straightening up so he wasn't resting his weight on his arms, "If they look at you and only see this," His hand settled on Malik's shoulder, "as weakness and a flaw then they are not worth your time."

Malik did not brush his hand off, not even when it slid lower so it rested on his bicep. Instead, his voice dropped to a whisper when he said, "And what is it you see?"

His heart was pounding in his chest and he wondered if Malik's was doing the same. There was something hesitant in Malik's posture, but he did not back away. Altair stared as he worked out what it was he wanted to say (how much he wanted to reveal).

"I see a man who had fought to keep his family alive. One with the strength and precision when he wields a weapon and yet has enough gentleness in his hand to do the work of a scholar." Altair said, "I see a man who chose a path to find someone, and when that path was denied him changed course like a river to move around the obstacle in his way instead of staying stagnant."

He did not say Malik was beautiful (though he was. Whether he was complaining about annoying customers or when they sat, bathed in the flickering light of the hearth it was like Altair was compelled to _stare_ ), but Malik had caught Altair staring at him when he thought no one was looking and he _knew_ already (however hard to believe it was).

The sound of the world beyond these walls was muffled and distant, making this space that the two of them occupied seem like something that existed outside of time itself. This is not the closest they've been to each other and yet, the distance felt suffocating and _clausterphobic_. It was uncomfortable but, inspite of that, Altair drew Malik closer by his arm as Malik's hand reached up to cup Altair's face. Altair's eyes stayed stubbornly open until it was impossible to bring Malik's features into focus. By the time his eyes slid shut there was a brush of warm air on his face when Malik breathed out and then--

\--the door to Malik's shop opened and there was a rush of sound invading it. They practically jumped back from each other and turned to stare at the man standing in the doorway as, somewhere beyond the doorway an argument started, its sound rising over those of the merchants plying their wares.

"There you are!" The man didn't seem to realize what he had just interrupted as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "we're setting sail."

"What? We barely just landed!" There wasn't a single reason compelling enough to make him leave Jerusalem right now (or to stop him from storming over and throwing the man, crewmate or not, out the door so he could be alone with Malik).

"Captain's orders, Altair."

"Fuck the--"

Malik cut in, "He'll be there."

To which Altair turned to scowl at Malik who had schooled his features back into something resembling neutral-bordering-on-annoyed (though there was still a slight blush to his cheeks that he hadn't managed to calm). "You have work." He said and reached out to push lightly against Altair's chest, "Go."

"I don't want to."

To which Malik only rolled his eyes, "what are you a child?" His hand curled in Altair's shirt, hidden from their audience by Altair's body. "Go. We can discuss this when you return."

~ + ~

The problem with not believing in a god was that there was no deity for him to curse when he returned and the ship was preparing to set sail.

He could curse the man who apparently needed a cargo of horses all the way to Chang'an and was willing to pay out of the ear to have an airship move them _today_. Or he could curse his captain for accpeting the ludicrous prices offered, or the captain of the ship who was supposed to take the horses whose ship was in for repairs due to pirate attacks. He could also blame Malik for being so stubborn and insistent that Altair do this.

Whoever he cursed, it would not change the fact that he was being pulled on board to help get the ship ready and that meant he wouldn't see Malik until the next time he was in Jerusalem.

When he went to sleep that night, Altair closed his eyes and his fingers curled slightly, remembering how Malik's muscles jumped under his touch and the heat of his face leaning tantilizingly close to his. He fell asleep thinking that this route he had travelled on so many times before had never seemed quite so long.

~ + ~

Malik had the approximate time it took to fly from Jerusalem to Chang'an in any given season memorized. He could have named the distance between the two cities and how often a ship would need to stop to stock up on supplies without checking one of his maps. Except that might not be the distance Altair was travelling. Even if the curret job required the captain to fly directly to Chang'an, it wasn't unheard of for ships to stop along the way to pick up and exchange cargo.

Every day they spent apart was another day Malik spent picking apart that encounter before he left.

And the more he picked it apart, the less sure he was of the fact that the proximity, the soft look in Altair's face meant what he thought it did. Then there were moments when he was sure it was _exactly_ what he thought it to be, and then he'd be struck by the sudden loneliness of being apart.

The way his thoughts canbibalized themselves, the way he kept staring in the direction of the docks, made him increasingly impersonable as the days wore on (even more so after Kadar managed to wheedle the story behind Malik's bad mood from him. "You told him to go? Why did you do that?"). When one of his informants from the docks came to him, he wasn't wearing the usual grin that heralded news of Altair's return (Malik knew they referred to Altair as Malik's suitor even if, for them, it was only in jest. Or so he thought), but a relief that maybe _now_ the atmosphere in the store will no longer be so strained.

But it wasn't Altair that walked through the door in the end. Instead, it was Abbas, crew member of the ship Altair worked on that Malik only knew in passing. The giddy feeling that had followed him since his informant came to him died like his words of greeting did when he turned around to find who it was.

He was disappointed, but more than that he was worried. (Of all people, Malik knew what dangers the skies held. What was left of his arm still ached on rainy days because of them.)

"Where is Altair?"

"Too busy to waste his time here." Abbas' words were as odious as his person, and Malik wondered what Altair had done to make an enemy of this one, because he was downright gleeful in the face of Malik's flat disapproval, "Did you think you were the only one? He does this in every city we regularly make a stop at, and when he gets bored of whatever poor bastard fell for his tricks he just leaves them. If I were you--"

There was no telling what Abbas thought Malik should do. It was not because Malik started laughing in his face (though he was tempted because even if his words hit on Malik's fears, it was clear this man had no idea what his relationship with Altair _was_ ).

It was because Altair had just pushed his way into the store, though he was leaning heavily against the door frame. Malik was alarmed to see that he was, not only wounded, but seemed to be bleeding through the bandages wrapped around his torso.

"What are you doing here?" Altair hissed at the same time Malik asked almost that exact thing as he stepped around the counter with the addendum of, "you shouldn't be walking around in your condition!" Though the person they were speaking to were different. Whan Malik was close enough, Altair grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him close. Altair's skin was _feverish_ and Malik's head was filled by the worry of infection.

"Altair," Malik said as calmly as he could, pushing against Altair's chest even as he was glaring at Abbas, "You need to get this looked at. What the hell are you thinking--"

"Leave, Abbas." Altair said and he walked (stumbled, more like, less holding Malik against him than it was Malik holding him up now). The weakness in his step made the threat implied in his voice worthless.

That's why Abbas only took a step closer to them, "You're not the captain." He hissed, "you can't order me around here. I out-rank you now!"

"Get out of my store." Malik did not shout, but each word burned with anger (at Altair's stupidity, partly, but mostly because it was easier to be angry than to be scared), "And tell your captain if he wants to continue doing business with me he will ensure that you _never_ step foot in here again."

~ + ~

Altair woke up and his head felt muggy. He struggled to sit up and remembered bits and pieces of the last day. They'd given him something for the pain (opium?), but he still hissed when he sat up, the motion pulling at the stitches keeping the large gash accross his side closed.

It took him a moment to remember how it happened (it was a lucky hit from a pirate with such sloppy footwork it was a wonder he hadn't tripped and landed on his own blade). It was a novice mistake, one Malik would no doubt laugh at him for when he was done fussing.

Malik.

The very thought of the man pushed Altair into standing, though he was leaning heavily against the wall as he walked out of his room.

It was a wonder that he made it off the ship without being noticed (the men were off drinking to another successful voyage and they ordered the usual number of drinks despite two of their usual group being gone), and but not a miracle that he made it to Malik's shop. He had taken this path enough times to make it blindfolded.

The world spun for a moment and he leaned against the wall beside the door that someone had left ajar. It took him a moment to recognize the voice inside but when he did (and when he understood the words Abbas-the-Pig was saying) he was _livid_.

~ + ~

When Abbas was gone, Altair sagged against Malik bonelessly. Malik grunted and nearly stumbled at the sudden dead weight.

"Altair," He said as he adjusted their positions so Altair's arm was slung over his shoulders, "I cannot carry you by myself. You need to go lay down."

Altair didn't reply verbally, but when Malik urged him, he took a heavy step forward. They shuffled slowly until they were out of the area that belonged to the shop and into the area where Malik and Kadar lived. Malik deposited Altair in a corner, where the floor was covered in a pile of cushions. Altair winced, but otherwise made no sound as Malik laid him on the floor.

He brushed a hand over Altair's forehead and cursed, "stupid, useless fool! What are you doing walking in your condition?" He had some basic medical supplies around for his own benefit (and it became habit to keep them on hand when some of his informants came back with small injuries that weren't troublesome enough to warrant a visit to the doctor). The thought of possible infection made Malik's hand shake and distracted him enough that Altair's hand on his wrist was a surprise.

"Altair, I need to--" He started at the same time Altair said, "it's not true."

"...what?"

The grip on Malik was weak, but insistent all the same, "it's not true. I'm not playing you."

Malik's expression softened and the anger and uncertainty that had shadowed him for weeks finally dissipated like smoke in the wind.

"I know." He said, but still gently freed himself from Altair's grip despite the half-whine, half-grunt of disapproval he got. "I need to see the wound...and fix whatever doctor's work you have ruined." And see if he needed to call another one.

He came back with the supplies and carefully cut through the bandages, letting the loose ones fall to the ground and peeling away the parts that stuck. There was a sigh of relief as he cleaned away the blood. The wound was only leaking. The stitches were still intact and there wasn't any sign of puss (though the wound itself and the area around it was an ugly red).

Malik pressed harder than he inteded to with the wet cloth when Altair cupped his face in his hand. They both hissed (if for different reasons) and Malik hastily wiped away the excess water he'd left behind with whispered apologies.

"Abbas was lying." Altair mumbled, "You're the only one, Malik."

There was a possibility that whatever drugs that had given Altair coupled with the fever were the reason behind the words (but with the near-kiss from before still at the forefront at his thoughts it was hard to convince himself).

"Shh." Malik said instead, pushing Altair's hand away, "Let me bandage this first." But his words didn't stop Altair from reaching out and touching his knee, his side or elbow, petting whatever part of Malik he could touch. He was smiling at Malik like some kind of idiot.

"I just wanted to tell you. You're the only one. I mean," He was interrupted when Malik urged him to sit up so he could attempt to bandage the wound again, "I mean, there were others. But they didn't--they didn't mean anything. It was just sex."

Malik huffed a laugh. In order to bandage Altair, he had to lean forward and drop the bandage, then lean over the other side the grab it again. When he laughed, he still had the roll of bandages in his hand and when he fell forward he was chest-to-chest with Altair.

"I feel like you'll wish you hadn't told me when the fever breaks." 

Then he went back to his work as Altair babbled about...anything, really. But when Malik was tying off the bandages, it was, "I missed you." Malik sighed as Altair reached out and pulled him in by the neck, tilting his head so they were cheek-to-cheek instead of what Altair had no doubt been intending and Malik felt stupid for letting his doubts get to him in the first place.

The grunt of disapproval from Altair said everything about what he thought about Maliks evasion.

"Oh, hush. You can afford to wait a bit longer. I'd rather do this when you're not drugged."

~ + ~

Altair didn't remember how everything had gone, but he remembered snatches of what happened.

He remembered finding Abbas in Malik's shop. Then there was the memory of Malik's scent, so tantalizingly close. He remembered waking up when it was dark, with a hand changing the wet cloth on his forehead, blessedly cool while a voice hummed familiar, half-remembered lullabies Malik had made up when they were still children.

Then it was morning and Malik was lying on his side beside Altair, breathing evenly.

"Oh, you're awake." Was how Kadar greeted him. "Remind him to eat breakfast. He forgets sometime." He left with this final bit of advice, "whatever you do, make sure you kiss him this time. He was insufferable while you were gone." and a laugh when Malik blindly chucked a cushion at him.

Altair sat up and smiled down at Malik, who had turned his face so it was hidden by a pillow. "You were thinking of me?" He said as ran a hand over Malik's hair.

"You were telling me about some of your sexual exploits yesterday." Malik countered and turned his head to give him a dry look (while being careful not to dislodge Altair's hand). "in the crow's nest? Really?"

Altair lay back down with a laugh and dragged Malik closer (and was delighted when Malik followed the pull of his hand eagerly).

~ + ~

When they were children (nothing more than dirty little thieves) living in the slums, they used to sneak down to the dock or the shipyards whenever they could afford to.

The ships were huge and impressive. There was nothing more amazing, back then, than watching them descend from and ascend into the sky, for Malik and Altair (Kadar was too young to have a real opinion on them. He was there because Malik had to keep him close).

Altair nodded his head towards a ship that was at least four times the size of the others (a treasure junk from the East, one of the dock workers had told them once) as it left the ground behind, "I'll fly on one of those one day."

Malik looked up from where he had been trying to wipe Kadar's clean of the juice from the fruit they'd just eaten. "As a stowaway?"

"No." Altair dropped onto the box beside the one Malik was sitting on, "I'll be the captain."

"Oh, of course. And where will you find the money for an airship, Captain Altair?" Malik's sarcasm made Altair frown.

"I'll find some way." He waved off Malik's concern. He paused, then tilted his head arrogantly, "you could be my quartermaster." These were the words they picked up from the sailors who frequented the bars in the area, though they didn't quite know their meanings.

Malik snorted, "Who says I'd want to be on a ship with you?" He regretted it almost immediately when Altair's face fell. The three of them had no one in the world except each other, but, up until a year ago, Altair had had no one but himself and sometimes Malik forgot that. An apology for hurting Altair's feelings was choked back by pride long enough that Altair had schooled his expression into something impassive.

"Fine." He said.

"Altair, I didn't mean--" Altair shrugged off the hand Malik put on his shoulder, but before he could stand up, Malik had grabbed him by the wrist. "Listen to me." When Altair turned to him, he was wearing arrogance like a shield, as if daring Malik to say anything else. Malik met his gaze evenly even as Kadar squirmed away from him to go investigate a rock on the ground. "We'll save up for a ship together." The words were not exactly an apology, but it was perhaps better than one when Altair consented to let Malik take his hand in his. "Then it'll take half the time."

"So you can get rid of me faster?" The words were a sneer, but Altair didn't let go of Malik's hand.

"So we can get out of this place faster." He pulled until Altair sat back down, but even then he did not let go of his hand. "We'll leave together and we'll go...wherever we want."

It was Altair who tugged on his hand this time, until Malik turned from looking at the airships in the sky to look at him instead. "Promise?" Altair did not sound small or worried, but Malik knows him well enough to read it in the way he clutched Malik's hand tighter.

"Promise." Malik smiled at him, "We'll sail the skies together one day."

~ + ~

The ship docked late at night, but they were, technically, early. When Altair saw the lamp still on in Malik's shop, he thought it was because Malik already knew he was coming.

But it was Kadar who answered the door, looking surprised to see Altair there.

"If you're looking for Malik, you'll find him there." He gestured towards a tall tower, easily visible even from the ground by the way it stretched far beyond most of the other buildings.

Kadar looked at the gift in Altair's hand (a fine woolen blanket with an elaborate pattern weaved into it), and said, "you might want to leave that behind."

~ + ~

When Altair made his way up the building Kadar had pointed out to him, Malik seemed genuinely surprised to see him there. It was satisfying to see since it seemed nothing ever happened in this city without Malik knowing about it.

"What are you doing here?" He asked as Altair pulled himself up, then sat down beside him.

"Your brother said I would find you here."

Malik leaned against Altair once he'd settled, "Your ship came in early then?"

"So you can be surprised."

"I'm not omniscient, Altair. Just very well informed."

"Hm. There was a fair wind at our back," Altair said, snaking an arm around Malik's back to settle his hand just above Malik's hip. His words fell to a whisper, "I thought maybe you had sent it."

At that, Malik snorted. Despite knowing that whatever Altair meant to say was going to be ridiculous, he still asked, "why did you think that?"

"Perhaps I thought it was because you missed me."

Malik burst into laughter, "unfortunately, I cannot perform such feats." But he reached across his body and Altair, without any prompting, reached out his own hand to meet Malik's half way. Their fingers laced together, Malik leaned back enough to smile at Altair. "But I did miss you."

Malik's body was warm, pressed along his side. He leaned in so their noses brushed, "so did I." He said, "why are you all the way up here?"

The smile faded by degrees until Malik's expression was wistful as he turned his gaze back to the sky.

"I didn't love the skies. Not like you did. It was always a means to an end: a way to get away from where we were, a way to find you. But somewhere along the line I must have come to love it...because I miss it sometimes." Malik shrugged and said, "It doesn't matter."

Altair ran his thumb over Malik's, then down again, over his wrist and then drags against his palm, following the natural line of Malik's hand. The touch made Malik twitch and glare at him.

"You could go. Any captain with eyes wouldn't hesitate to hire you on if they see you that you can perform every job flawlessly. If you make them watch you climb you must tell me so I can see their faces."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." He said, in direct contrast to the way he shrugged off Altair's hold to straddle his thighs, "Besides: I'd rather have you."

Because being on a ship would mean less time spent together (because it was better to want to the things he can have than to pine over the things he can't).

Altair's hands framed his face when Malik tried to lean in to kiss him, and he was surprised to find that they are holding him _back_ and not pulling him _in_.

"What if you can have both?" Altair said before Malik could get a word in (because he looked irritated).

"Altair, I don't know if you realize, but I'm sure your captain has made his opinions about me--"

"I'll be your captain." The words were hushed, not like a secret but like Altair was unsure of their reception. Even so, they were _steady_ as he ran a thumb over Malik's cheek. "And you'll be my quartermaster."

Malik stared, "Altair--" He almost said, _we were children_ , but instead he said, "you don't even have a ship."

"I'll get one." He said like Malik had given him a promise (again), he pulled Malik in until their faces were barely inches apart. "I'll do it if it means I can give you back the sky while still having you at my side."

"You're ridiculous." Then he swatted Altair on the arm, "That's not a compliment. Stop smiling. Do you even know how much a ship _costs_?"

"I'm not doing anything with my money. Are you?" He asked as an after thought even as his hands wandered down Malik's back to settle over his ass.

He watched Malik's expression change in the faint moonlight.

"You're serious." Like he hadn't expected him to be.

"I am." He said (unecessarily from the way Malik's expression had gone from amused to incredulous to finally settle on cautious awe), as he pulled Malik forward and fell back against the roof at the same time. Malik caught himself in time to avoid falling and having their faces collide (painfully), but they were still left so-very close. "You will even have your own quarters. Unless you'd rather share mine?"

"Ha. I'd need a place to get away from you." But they both knew he didn't mean it. In fact, Altair only chuckled before pulling Malik down.

~ + ~

It was more complicated than that though. There were so many steps to what they were doing and when they actually sat down to do figure it out, it seemed monumental.

"But what are you looking for, exactly?" Kadar asked, because while Malik and Altair could sail a ship, only Kadar knew how one was built. (He offered his services to design it. They couldn't save money on materials and labour, but at the very least Kadar, as a builder on the cusp of achieving mastery cannot and will not charge them as much.)

"A trade ship. Something fast and with decent maneuverability." Altair said after swallowing the bite of dinner he'd taken, "pirates have been becoming more bold recently."

Then Kadar said, "hey. Speaking of pirates, the Barbary corsairs have been sailing in a modified type of galley. With faster speeds and more space for canons--"

"We could just as easily avoid the routes they frequent." Malik pointed out, but looked at the beginning of Kadar's sketch with interest.

Altair nodded as Kadar rattled on about rumours and what a friend-of-a-friend who survived on such encounter said. "Yes, but we stand to turn a larger profit if we take routes that others are too afraid to." 

And it went on, and on with input from all of them about the number of sails, the size of the hull, the material and size of the balloon until the candle burned to an end (and then were revisited again and again as the months wore on).

~ + ~

The question of finances was not such a complicated matter in Malik's hands.

Altair made a decent enough living, but Malik had very little to spend his money on apart from his brother's apprenticeship and daily necessities. That left him with excess income that was then lent out to new merchants, farmers, and other smaller businesses. The end result was that the money Malik invested in these ventures over the years gave him enougn return to get them started as well as business relationships with enough people to help get them get almost everything else they needed.

"At this rate," Malik said, "I will own most of the ship."

He sounded smug and amused. Altair hid his smile in the crook of Malik's neck.

"I could think of worst people to entrust with my ship."

"You mean _my_ ship." Malik said haughtily, only to draw in a sharp breath when Altair nipped at his neck.

"I'm the captain." Altair said as Malik tipped his head back to give him better access to the skin there. He felt the short laugh Malik let out in the quick, brief rise and fall of his chest. Then Malik buried his fingers in Altair's hair and tugged him up so they were face to face.

"But it is still my ship. Perhaps I wish to be captain."

"What is this?" Altair mock-scowled at him, putting his weight onto his elbows so they were flush against each other from chest to hip. "A mutiny?"

"It is not a mutiny if you are not yet captain." He said wrly even as he rolled his hips up and against Altair's (enjoying the way Altair bowed his head and groaned), "but you will have your chance to make your case in the morning."

~ + ~

Malik and Kadar would be left with the main job of overseeing the construction of the ship. In the meantime, Altair would still be working the ship he was currently on. It felt like everything should be moving faster, but, after all, it was impossible to build a ship in a day. It would be another year before it ("she," Kadar would correct, with reverence in his voice) was ready, at least. If there were delays it could be more.

And they all knew Altair wouldn't be able to stay idle for so long without driving everyone else insane.

Still, on the day before his departure, he'd attached himself to Malik like a leech.

"You're a nuisance." Malik said flatly when he gave up on trying to peel Altair's hands from where they were wrapped around his waist. Altair smirked as he rested his chin on Malik's shoulder, watching him go back to work on the commissions he still owed with a grumble.

It was easy to appreciate the precise lines Malik made on his map and the organized way his tools are all set out to be within arm's reach, even if Altair did not necessarily understand the exact details of what he was doing.

He watched, just like that, enjoying the press of Malik's back against his chest, the way his shoulders moved as he drew.

Only when Malik set his quill down did Altair move to nuzzle against the spot behind Malik's ear.

"I will miss you."

Malik sighed. "You're ridiculous."

"Only when it has to do with you."

Malik rolled his eyes, "There is never a moment when you're not ridiculous." He moved the map he'd just finished off to the side before he put some distance between him and Altair with his elbow. Altair allowed it only to box Malik in when he'd turned around. "This won't be forever."

"Yes." The very thought of it was an excited hum all through his body. (It made leaving seem even more difficult than every other time before, to have decided already but still having to wait.) But instead of voicing those thoughts, he leaned in closer to whisper in Malik's ear, "When this is over, I will have you every day."

There was hesitation at those words, in the way Malik's hand, previously settled firmly against his waist, lifted as if unsure, and the soft tone in Malik's voice when he said his name.

It made Altair pull back and watch the way Malik wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Tell me I am--" Malik broke off, voice not broken but like he wasn't certain how to say what he wanted to. "Tell me that I am coming along as more than just your lover."

(Because that thought had popped up once or twice as well and couldn't be shaken off.)

Altair did not touch him though he wanted to. To chase away and assauge every fear however he could but words were always Malik's strong suit, not his. But there was nothing about this he could rpove through touch.

He struggled for words and Malik allowed his silence with patience.

"I told you any captain who knew what you could do would be stupid to not hire you." Then Altair smirked, "But it's too late for them because I got you first. I want you at my side, not just in my bed."

He wanted Malik at his back, like it had been when they were children (the two of them against the whole world).

"All right." Malik said, with less uncertainty than before but Altair knew Malik won't truly believe it until it happened.

But at the moment, he was willing to accept Altair's words and that was all he could ask for (for now).

~ + ~

The ship began to take shape as the weeks went by. It was strange enough the first time Malik saw the process by which a pile of wood turned into a ship, it was stranger still to see it happening knowing that it was _their_ ship.

Altair would go with him, in between jobs and, like that, month by month they watched it all come together in between gifts of a beautiful red lacquered wood box from Hangzhou, ink contained in an intricate glass bottles from Egypt, a richly coloured robe embroidered in gold from Khujand, a simple (but very well crafted sword) from Talas and many other things from his travels.

The closer the ship was to completion, the more reluctant Altair became about leaving again.

Once, as they lay together, naked beneath the sheets, Altair drew idle circles on the skin of Malik's shoulder, he murmured against Malik's nape, "to not see you for a day is like being apart for three autumns."

Malik didn't bother opening his eyes. He sounded barely awake when he asked, "What?"

"Just something I heard on my travels."

"Mm." Malik mumbled a bit before his breathing slowly evened out again. Altair counted each breath he took until he too fell asleep.

~ + ~

The completion of their dream was so slow going that it was easy to forget that it was happening. Even when he sat down with Altair to discuss who they could hire on as part of their crew, it seemed like such an abstract thing, like it was untouchable. Unreal.

It wasn't until this moment, when Malik was standing on the deck of the completed ship that it really felt _real_ for the first time. (Even more real than when Altair officially resigned from the ship he was working on and more real than even the moment when Kadar came to them, eyes all alight and telling them to go see it).

His hand gripped the railing on the side and he could already imagine how it would look to have Jerusalem shrink beneath them as the ship carried them into the sky.

The look of awe he couldn't wipe from his face might have made him self-conscious if it wasn't mirrored on Altair's. Malik pushed back from the railing and thought of the maps they had prepared and the merchants already ready to have their wares transported. He thought of pulling Altair in and kissing him stupid because this was _real_ , it was _happening_.

His fingers were trembling when he settled them on the crook of Altair's elbow (his own hands still gripping the railing tightly like he was afarid it would fly away if he didn't).

Altair's eyes were bright when he turned to Malik. "I know what we're going to name her."

"Do you?" It was a question they had talked about many times before without coming to any conclusions. He stepped into Altair's space, still giddy with the realization of their goal, close enough that if he just tiped his head they would brush lips.

"Yes. We should call the ship, King's Eagle." 

Malik stared, then he burst into laughter.

"No, it is perfect." Altair said, linking his hands behind Malik's back, "After all, you do own most of this ship."

"Except you are not referring to the ship, Altair."

"No." He agreed easily. The sun was already beginning to set and Malik was beautiful in the warm golden light that was quickly fading. He suddenly needed to see how he would look like, flushed and out of breath in this light that made everything glow and their shadows long. He pulled Malik in tighter and then--

Kadar came up the steps leading below deck (where he still had a few finishing touches to add), and said, "You need to see the--oh, come on! Can't you guys do this later?"

Altair turned to him with a glare, but it was Malik, still shaking with laughter that just turns his head back and kissed him like he didn't care who was looking.


End file.
